


Vintage Misery

by Ange_de_la_Mort



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Established Relationship, Headaches & Migraines, Headcanon, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 08:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19903102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_de_la_Mort/pseuds/Ange_de_la_Mort
Summary: Sometimes, all that it takes to finally talk about certain uncertainties are migraines and depression and the arrival of a young child.





	Vintage Misery

**Author's Note:**

> For [algandars](https://twitter.com/algandars), who requested some Even/Braig.
> 
> Set a lot of years before Birth by Sleep.

The castle is in a state of almost deadly silence, which is certainly owed to how late it is right now. Nobody in their right mind would walk through some corridors or do some work past midnight, especially when there are more than enough warm and comfortable beds waiting for everyone to sleep the long sleep of the righteous or the unrighteous.  
  
Nobody in their right mind ... well.  
  
Probably this explains his presence here in the laboratory, perhaps he is no longer completely in his right mind.  
  
It's been a long day, a stressful day, and instead of trying to catch some sleep or at least resting his eyes and trying to will his headaches away, he is sitting here, thinking, working ... and quietly cursing a lot.  
  
It's all Even's fault, anyway. It's Even's fault that he is here whenever he can, whenever he feels undisturbed and unsupervised. Even though Even didn't actually do anything at all to encourage him to secretly establish himself in the lab. Nothing, except ... just being Even. Being blessed with the arrogance and unfortunately also the talent to be able to afford to behave like a stupid assho-  
  
A stinging jolt of pain runs through his body and for a moment the view blurs before his eyes. _Okay, Braig, don't get upset, that's not good for the migraine, but fucking dammit, man, this shit's got to work now!_  
  
Spoiler: ... it doesn't.  
  
No matter how long he sits in front of Evens' notes bending over them until the carelessly scribbled lines stop looking like words, no matter how often he adds his own little scribbles to this project Even considers a "failed experiment", he doesn't succeed in putting any sense into the equations.  
  
Yet it's exactly what he has to do to prove something to himself, to prove something to Even: Finish something _he_ can't do. Beat him at his own sport.  
  
... not that Even would ever do sport, the idiot might be a tall asshole, but he's also a lanky one.  
  
Braig rolls his eyes at himself and sighs wearily, craning his neck a little to stare at the ceiling - but then immediately changes his mind as the lab's bright light burns into his retina and another piercing jolt of _ouch_ shoots through his head, as though his skull wanted to split in two.  
  
He curses again and hits the table with his flat hand, the sound ringing in his ears. Fuck Even. Fuck Braig. Fuck them both. Fuck his own uncertainty. Fuck everything.  
  
Maybe he should go to bed and forget about the whole thing. Maybe science isn't really for him, no matter how reluctant he might be to admit it. Maybe it's not so bad that he always feels like a complete idiot next to Even.  
  
And maybe their relationship will work anyway. Or just because of that. Who knows, maybe Even only likes him because he can feel smarter next to Braig.  
  
What a fucking perspective this is. Not to mention that it would almost certainly shoot his self-esteem to the bone.  
  
Being with a prodigy can sometimes be really shitty.  
  
With a sigh he rests his chin on one hand and starts to stare uselessly at the sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him, looking at it at first as if it's a badly camouflaged bear trap waiting for him to push his finger towards it in order to tear off his whole hand, then as if it's a poisonous insect that he would like to crush with his palm. Then, wearily, he stretches out his hand and crumples the sheet of paper into a tiny little ball and throws it against the closed door.  
  
Which, of course, opens at that very moment.  
  
Which means that the paper ball hits Even right between the eyes. Even, in his dumb and ugly white pyjamas. In the middle of the night. Here. Now.  
  
Braig rolls his eyes again and grimaces. "Yes, of course it's you."  
  
"Who else should get close to the labs at night?"  
  
"Yeah, who else?" Braig repeats quietly and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "What do you want here anyway, Even?"  
  
"I saw the that lights are still on and wanted to check if I had forgotten turning them off. Which, evidently, I haven't. What is your excuse?" Even asks and leans down for the paper ball to unfold it with pointed fingers.  
  
"I was looking through my secret stash of booze."  
  
"No, you weren't."  
  
"How would you know?" Yeah, sure, Braig knows himself that he sounds like a whiny child, but for some strange reason he doesn't care. Being pissed off and having the headaches of the century does that to a man.  
  
Even raises a brow. "Because I know every nook and cranny of this lab, Braig. I would know."  
  
"You don't know _shit_ , Even, you can't even find the heater in this thing! It's ice cold in here! I have no idea how you can stand this."  
  
"Well, for a start, I am not the one sitting here in nothing more than pants and a thin cotton shirt."  
  
Braig scoffs quietly and leans back in the chair, over which his uniform jacket has been carelessly thrown.  
  
"Also, I must say that this attire does nothing for lab safety, and you can be glad I didn't catch you actually experimenting, because I would have kicked you out faster than you could have said-"  
  
"Who the fuck cares about lab safety anyway?"  
  
Even stops in his flood of words and even lowers his index finger, which he had already raised threateningly. "That is _not_ was I going to say." Finally, he takes a look at the sheet of paper that he has smoothed out and freed from its existence as a ball, and raises an eyebrow again. And then the other one. And Braig himself realizes that he's shrinking under Even's scrutinizing gaze. "Is that- have you been stealing my research?"  
  
"I ..." He scratches his neck and sighs, looking aside. "I wouldn't call it stealing. That's a harsh word."  
  
"So you _were_ stealing my research."  
  
Hastily Braig raises his hand to interrupt him. "I was merely _borrowing_ it. Also, you scrapped that idea anyway, so why do you suddenly care?"  
  
Even looks at him dumbfounded, and Braig almost wants to high-five himself for managing to get _that_ kind of look. "I ... I care ..." Even begins to say, very slowly, "because it's wrong to take my things, Braig. Don't make me explain this to you like you're a child. I already have one to take care of, I don't need you to suddenly regress in age."  
  
Ah. Yes. There's the other thing they fight about every now and then. But only because Braig actually manages to address it. Because it doesn't directly concern Braig, not his own shortcomings, not his worries, not his ... he doesn't want to call it inferiority complexes, but perhaps that's the best thing to call it. "Yes, and it's so amazing that Master Ansem just goes around adopting children left and right and leaving them in your care."  
  
Even sighs and crosses his arms in front of his chest, "You mean like he did with you?"  
  
"I wasn't a _child_ ," Braig protests quickly and presses his lips together. "And you're not my baby-sitter."  
  
"And yet, you somehow still behave like one." When Braig opens his mouth to say something snarky, something he would surely regret later, a deep crease of worry appears between Even's eyebrows and a shadow flickers across his face. "Well. If you're worried that I spend too much time with the boy and that he will grow up and steal your place as my most important person, you need not worry. That will never be the case."  
  
Slowly Braig closes his mouth and blinks. Once. Twice. Because he's not quite sure whether he just misheard him or not. Most important person? Him? To Even?  
  
...oh. And here he thought Even was just fooling around and/or reveling in the knowledge that he has chosen someone to be his partner who is always considered to be less clever than him. That it's even _serious_ with him ... he hears that for the first time.  
  
... admittedly, they are both anything but good at talking about what they feel. Braig had been beaten out of showing weakness very early on, especially for and in front of other people, and as for Even - Braig hasn't managed to pull the stick out of his ass yet.  
  
Usually their conversations consist of teasing and insulting each other until one of them loses their cool and grabs the other by the collar, which results in 99 % of the time in a kiss and 1% of the time in Braig being kicked out of the lab and Even not talking to him for days.  
  
If one takes the time to look at it closely, this is actually the longest and most emotional speech they have had in the few months of their relationship.  
  
Maybe it's the headache that starts pounding behind his eyes and the nausea that makes his chest tight, but maybe Braig feels a little touched and close to tears right now.  
  
... hopefully it's the headaches.  
  
Because he still hasn't said anything, Even now looks at him for a moment and sighs softly. "He hates me."  
  
It takes a second for Braig to realize that Even is talking about Ienzo and not him. Then he tilts his head and rubs his neck, insecure and surprised. "Really? He said that?"  
  
"No." Now Even really enters the room and leans his backside against the lab table. He still has his arms crossed in front of his chest and looks down to Braig without really looking at him. "You know the boy doesn't speak a single word. But that isn't necessary. His heart speaks loud and clear."  
  
Braig gives a little wave of his hands and leans back in the chair. "That's just a fancy way of saying he kicked you in the shin and wandered off on his own."  
  
Even let's out an exhausted sound. "What I'm _trying_ to say here is that sometimes, you aren't any better than a five year-old boy."  
  
"Really." He shrugs his shoulders and puts his elbows on the table, looking up at Even with exhaustion. "And here I thought this was gonna be lecture about me having to listen to my own heart. Which, guess what, I do. 's why I'm sitting here."  
  
"Then maybe it should stop giving you these misguided propositions, and maybe you should stop listening to them and listen to your brain instead. You have one, right? Start using it." Even's words are biting, the tone of his voice a little too high, too shrill. As always when he is on the verge of completely losing all patience. Sometimes Braig thinks it's funny. Today it only makes the throbbing behind his eyes stronger. It also doesn't help that Even finally lets his arms sink and puts one hand on Braig's shoulder, looking at him so gentle that it almost seems like pity. "... but then, your brain probably tells you that you need to beat me, right?"  
  
"Look-"  
  
"Do you really still think Master Ansem will throw you out if you can't prove you're better than me?"  
  
"Even ... "  
  
"You've been here for three years, Braig. If Master Ansem thought you weren't a useful addition to the staff, he'd have let you go already."  
  
"Even!"  
  
Even actually flinches a little, as if only now he realizes that Braig is in the room at all and that he is not only revealing his thoughts to the empty air. "What?"  
  
He shrugs his shoulders and looks aside, massages the root of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm ... look ... I'm having the worst migraines and it's almost one in the morning. We're not gonna have that conversation now."  
  
"I disagree," comes an answer he doesn't want but receives.  
  
Slowly he takes his hand off his eyes and raises his gaze a little, but regrets it immediately as the bright light shines into his eyes. "Wait, you disagree with it being one in the morning?"  
  
"I disagree with you weaseling your way out of talking about this." He can't remember ever having seen Even so worried. He hates it. Maybe he hates Even a little too, but only right now. "What is wrong, Braig?"  
  
"Nothing is wrong with me," he says too fast, too loud, and then looks aside in frustration.  
  
"I never said anything was wrong with you, but now I definitely have the feeling something is wrong with you."  
  
Oh, of course. The feeling. If even Even, the personified iceberg without social skills gets the _feeling_ , then it must be true. Unfortunately, it is. Damn it. "It's just ... " He stops and looks for words, gesticulates in helplessness. "It always looks so easy when you do all of this."  
  
"Of what?"  
  
He helplessly shrugs his shoulders. Somehow this has almost become a habit, one he absolutely doesn't want to have, because he himself knows that he couldn't bear to be _helpless_ and _clueless_. With a sweeping motion, he points to the whole of the lab. "It just looks like it's so easy for you."  
  
Is that pity that he sees in Evens gaze? In addition to his hand still pressing Braig's shoulder? "It's not _easy_ for me, Braig. It took hard work and years of studying."  
  
Ah. Pity plus arrogance minus compassion. Just what Braig needs right now. He grinds his teeth and pushes Even's hand off his shoulder, turns a little away from him. "So you're saying I'm not working hard enough?"  
  
"A-are you trying to read anything I say in bad faith? I'm not saying any of the likes! I just had more opportunities and am setting my priorities differently than you are."  
  
"So you _are_ saying I'm not working hard enough."  
  
"You have a full-time job and spend your nights in here, if anything you're trying to achieve too much in too little time." Even raises a hand and slowly drops it again, looking at Braig thoughtfully for a moment before opening his mouth again. "Maybe you should ask Master Ansem to reduce your work hours."  
  
Now Braig shrugs and stares at him, tightens his shoulders. "So he has a reason to kick me out, you mean?"  
  
"Braig, what ... what the _fuck_ is wrong with you today?"  
  
He doesn't know exactly what it is that makes him go silent; the choice of words or the worry in Evens voice. Both of them are so absurd, so unexpected that it makes him laugh: A bubbling stream of hoarse laughter that unstoppably sweeps its way over his lips until tears come to his eyes. "... you cursed."  
  
Even averts his gaze and pushes a strand of hair out of his forehead. "I have noticed" he says, obviously horrified by himself.  
  
Braig's voice becomes softer, and he notices a smile on his lips as he rubs the moisture out of the corners of his eyes. . "You never curse."  
  
"Evidently I just did, because you are _so infuriating_." Even snorts and drums with his fingers on the tabletop. Every time his fingertips hit the metal, it feels like a bang in Braig's head. "What is it? What's going through that thick skull of yours?"  
  
"I ... I feel stuck. Okay? I feel like ..." What can he say? How should he put it? How should he make someone with Evens intellect and at the same time his infinite stupidity understand what is going on in him? "Like you're surpassing yourself every day and I can't follow any of this anymore. That I'll really never be anything else than a dumb idiot kid from the countryside that's grown up into a dumb idiot man, while you ... while you're Mister Oh-But-I-Am-Not-A-Prodigy-I-Just- _Worked_ -Harder-Than-You."  
  
"So this really is a competition to you?"  
  
"No! Maybe. I don't know? I just ... fuck." There are the tears again. And he was hoping he could get around crying seriously. Like a damn crybaby. But hey, now it's too late. Now he can cry. And express the worry that has been torturing him the whole time. So he takes a deep breath and says, "I don't wanna be the stupid one in this relationship."  
  
While Even looks at him for a long time, Braig bites his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth. Well. Now it's out. Now they can all laugh about it once and then it's over again. Then Even can call him an idiot and then they can pretend that everything is okay. Or Even could just decide that Braig isn't worth the effort and the stress and they could break up. Or Even could-  
  
"Braig, I am literally the worst person to compare yourself to. We both know I am smarter than everyone in this building."  
  
\- say something like that, which only makes Braig wonder why such a clever man is so full of shit sometimes.  
  
"Is that supposed to cheer me up? If so, then wow, you fucking lack some social skills."  
  
Slowly Even shakes his head. He looks tired. With dark rings under his eyes, which surely look only too similar to those of Braig. With hanging corners of his mouth and this terrible worry line between his eyebrows. "Listen. You should go to bed. We both should. And in the morning, I will talk to Master Ansem." When Braig opens his mouth, Even raises a hand to silence him. "I could really use a lab assistant."  
  
Oh. Really? he thinks overwhelmed.  
  
"... oh. Really?" he says, just as overwhelmed.  
  
Even smiles at him, mild and tired, and perhaps without pity. "It gets troublesome in here sometimes. Also, I'd prefer you experimenting with flammable substances under my watch instead of when you're tired with migraines," he adds, as if it were an afterthought, and they both know that this is Even's sad attempt at a joke, a way to say that everything is fine between them.  
  
He didn't expect that. He didn't expect much, and least of all ... that. And so, a quiet "... thanks" is all that manages to come over his lips.  
  
"No need to thank me."  
  
"I know. Still."  
  
"Let's go to bed, Braig."  
  
Well, that's probably the final decision for this night. But it's true, it's late, Braig has to get up early, they both have to. So he allows Even to reach for his hand and help him up, even if he doesn't want to look at him. Hastily he puts his uniform jacket over his arm and silently steps out of the lab.  
  
For a moment he stops at the door, uncertain whether he should wait for Even or not.  
  
But as he searches for a decision, Even pushes the light switch and the bright light in the lab fades. Slowly and silently he closes the door behind him - and to Braig's own surprise they walk silently side by side in the dim light of the corridor, until Even finally, still silently, turns into the direction in which Braig's room lies.  
  
Should he say something about this? Does Even just want to make sure that he really does get into bed and not sneak back into the lab?  
  
Arriving at his door, Braig takes a deep breath and turns his head to Even to wish him a good night, but Even just smiles and puts his hand on the door handle, slowly pushing it open.  
  
... oh.  
  
Braig doesn't look at him as he enters his room, nor does he turn to him as he pulls his shirt over his head and peels his boots off his feet. Only when he gets out of his pants does he raise his eyes, trying to spot Even's face in the darkness.  
  
In vain.  
  
Even's facial expression can't be recognized, but he doesn't make any effort to leave the room either, so Braig just sighs and claims his bed for himself, turning his back to Even.  
  
He hopes that Even will lie down with him, but he doesn't expect it. Not after the things he said. Today. And the rest of the time, actually. So when the blanket rustles behind him and the familiar warmth of Evens body clings to him, it feels all the more like a heavy burden being lifted from his shoulders.  
  
For a while it is quiet between them. Then he hears Even whisper: "Hey, Braig?" And his breath tickles Braig's ear.  
  
"Mhh?"  
  
Once again there is nothing but silence between them, one which lasts so long that Braig is almost certain Even has already fallen asleep.  
  
"I would ... no matter what happens, I would never leave you behind."  
  
The seriousness in Evens voice makes him smile, and when Even hesitantly puts one hand on his hip and then the whole arm around him, Braig suddenly finds it very easy to reach for his hand and interlock their fingers.  
  
And maybe, for now, he won't find it so hard to believe him.


End file.
